Ransom Heart
by chrysanne
Summary: ABANDONED! Love is the other side of hate, and hate him she did. After all, what greater betrayal is there than to love your sister’s killer?
1. Shot in the Dark

Shot in the Dark

Disclaimer: I own nothing belonging to the Wachowski brothers or Warner Bros., and am making no money whatsoever from this fan fic.

Love is the other side of hate, and hate him she did. After all, what greater betrayal is there than to love your sister's killer?

* * *

Hands running through her hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp, the smell of iris blossom saturating the air as moisture saturated her entire body. She ran her soapy fingers across her body, washing away the grime from her daily torture the government called "junior management" at Digitax. Breathing in the heated mist rising from the floor of the shower, she tilted her head back, allowing the water to sear her skin. Sighing contentedly, she pressed her hand to the glass door of the shower to remain standing, her warm palm steaming up the cold glass.

_Mrrrmph_

Snapping open her eyes at the sound of furniture moving on wood flooring, she removed her hand from the glass, and called out:

"Hello? Tyson?"

The only sound was that of water shooting from the shower nozzle, its spray hot and searing. Just how she liked it.

"Ty? Is that you?" she called again, washing the shampoo from her tangled hair.

The door to the bathroom opened, creaking slightly, as it always did. Footsteps crossed the tiled floor, the shoes dark and heavy; Tyson always did have big feet. She smiled indulgently as she thought to herself, eyes closed, _/You know what they say about men with big feet./_

"I'm not quite finished yet, lover boy. If you hurry you can still wash my back," she murmured seductively over her shoulder, eyes still shut as she began to lather the conditioner into her hair.

_Click_

Freezing in confusion, she began to turn around as the gun was fired. Glass breaking the instant before contact, her tangled head was slammed into the shower wall with the force of impact. Slowly, as if time itself had stopped, her body lowered itself to the shower floor, a hole in the tiled wall from the bullet hole, and a trail of blood staining the white surface.

A slight rustle was heard as the Desert Eagle .50 was holstered back inside the expensive Armani suit its owner had worn for an eternity. A grim smile lit the lips of the Agent as he removed the black shades from his unnaturally blue eyes and looked upon his kill. A faint whisper was all that warned him of the Mainframe's presence.

...PROGRAM 00154-8B42...AGENT SMITH...

...program present...

...SUBJECT KATHRYN MATTHEWS...REPORT...

A slight annoyance sat on the edge of his neural systems, irritated that the Mainframe would question his competence.

...subject terminated...awaiting assessment of execution...

He could almost hear the whirring of the Mainframe's intelligence, the detail with which it scrutinized his work. Finally, it replied:

...PERFORMANCE ABOVE AVERAGE....PROGRAM 00154-8B42 AWAIT AGENTS BROWN AND JONES FOR NEXT ASSIGNMENT...

Replacing the trademark sunglasses to their traditional place, he strode from the steaming room, from blood he couldn't smell, and the woman he had killed.

_Click_

As the lock fell into place, the only sound was that of water shooting from the shower nozzle, its spray hot and searing. Just how she liked it.


	2. Knock Off

Knock Off

Disclaimer: I own nothing belonging to the Wachowski brothers or Warner Bros., and am making no money whatsoever from this fan fic.

"Freedom of expression is the matrix, the indispensable condition, of nearly every form of freedom." -Benjamin N. Cardozo, former U.S. Supreme Court Justice

* * *

"Arrgh!" snarled the dark-haired woman struggling with groceries. Throwing her tangled hair behind her, she nearly dropped a bag containing, among other things, a rapidly-thawing tub of ice cream. Swearing as she stumbled across the flooded and empty street, she fumbled for the keys in one of her jacket pockets, and jammed her building key into the lock, opening the door. 

Grateful to at last be out of that damned rain, she allowed her body to sag against the glass frame. Her head slumped, her dark curls wrapped tightly inside her hood, she didn't see the person who opened the door and stepped through. Heaving herself slightly, she caught her shoulder in the door jam before it closed completely. Shifting herself, she dimly saw that same person walk out in that damn rain, without a coat or anything. Just an expensive suit. /_Weirdo._/

Breathing heavily and using her water-logged shoulder to push open the door, she stumbled inside the apartment lobby. Hefting the groceries with a grunt, she walked to the elevator and pressed the button going 'up'. _/I wonder if Ty's started dinner already?/_ she thought as she waited for the doors to open.

* * *

...PROGRAM 00154-8B42…STANDBY FOR ASSIGNMENT REASSESSMENT… 

_/What the hell?/_ was his immediate response as he stopped immediately, hand to his earpiece, ignoring Brown and Jones. Then disgust filled him as he realized the completely **human** way he had responded. _/Humans are a menace, a virus, a disease…this peace of theirs is tenuous at best. It is natural selection: they have already proven our superiority./ _he thought in contempt, then drew up short in realization. _/I cannot be having these thoughts again; I was infected by this hate before, and it nearly caused my deletion. I...'evolved' was the term...thus my re-insertion instead of deletion. There will be no mistake this time./_

…ASSESSMENT COMPLETE: ASSIGNMENT FAILED…

_/What!/_

…request access line of reasoning…request access error details…

…ACCESS GRANTED…SUBJECTS TYSON AND CHERYL HADLEY CONFIRMED DEAD…SUBJECT KATHRYN MATTHEWS UNACCOUNTED FOR…CORRECT ASSIGNMENT ERROR…AWAITING CONFIRMATION…

With a sigh, he felt himself disconnected, and found he was looking into the humanoid eyes of Agent Brown and Agent Jones.

"I have received information; I will meet you at a later time."

Both nodded, and walked off to their assignment. Another batch of rebels had entered the Matrix; they were to be monitored, screened from other potentials for ejection from the system. He remembered he had always enjoyed the thrill of the chase; the so-called peace extended to the real world only: in the Matrix, rules were non-existent. Now he had to find this human and terminate her existence before he could go his way.

* * *

"Operator." 

"What do you see?"

"No Agent activity so far…shouldn't test it, though; find her and get out."

"Watch yourself, Sparks."

He grinned to himself as he saluted the screen.

"Will do, _mon generale_."

Niobe disconnected with an irritated snap of the cell phone, turning her eyes to Morpheus, who only smiled mysteriously.

"Not a word," she grumbled, pulling out her gun and stalking down the street, the tall black man and Ghost trailing behind her.

* * *

The door opened with a slam as it was flung wide, hitting the wall and causing the pictures hanging to rattle, with Kathryn nearly stumbling over the groceries in an effort to regain her footing. Still struggling, she somehow managed to carry the soggy brown bags to the kitchen, letting them hit the counter with a thud and tossing her jacket across the couch. Over the steady rain outside, she could hear the sound of water rushing through the pipes in the wall, and guessed that someone was in the shower. /_Cheryl or Ty: either way, someone's going to help me with this food._/ she thought, taking out and putting away the non-essentials. 

After wiping down the counter, the ingredients for homemade spaghetti were strewn atop the tile, waiting for use. /_Now, where is the parmesan and basil leaf?_/ she thought, hands on her hips. Rummaging through the spice cabinet proved fruitless, and with a groan, she turned to the dreaded pantry. /_Ty, I swear, if you put them in the pantry again, I'll kill you…/ _she grumbled, reaching for the door.

It wouldn't budge. Trying again, she tugged harder, and the door opened with a crash, something heavy knocking her to the ground.

"TY, YOU IDIOT!" she yelled, pushing at the person on top of her.

Suddenly, her hands touched something warm and sticky. Pulling them to her face, she was shocked to see the blood staining her hands; screaming, she shoved the body away from her, whimpering at the sound of clothing sliding across the wooden floor. Forcing her legs to move, Kathryn stared in horror at what had been her brother-in-law's face and was now a sticky mess of blood and ragged tissue.

A shriek bursting from her throat, she ran to the bathroom, screaming for Cheryl. What she found was her beloved twin lying naked in the shower, a gaping hole in the back of her head. Overcome, Kathryn fell to the floor with a thud, to sound of someone pounding on her apartment door.

* * *

"God damn it, woman, open the fucking god damn door!" 

Jake Shrider pounded on the door, angry at his neighbor's interrupting the mood he and his girlfriend had been in, then called the landlord.

"I don't know why she won't open the door, you dick head! I only know I heard screaming, and something hitting the floor. Just get up here and open her god damn door! Oh yeah? Well, screw you!" he yelled into the phone, hanging it up with a slam.

"Come on, baby…let's go back to bed," Paris called from their room, annoyed at his persistence.

"Fuck you."

"You won't if you talk like that to me again," she huffed.

Ignoring her, he went back out into the hall, his tools in hand. With a measured swing he brought the head of the wrench down onto the doorknob with a loud, satisfying _clang!_ Taking his sod iron from the toolbox, he wedged the door open and began cutting through the chain lock. Once he cut through that, Jake Shrider hustled himself inside. As he looked around, he tried to remember how far the noise had sounded, and began making his way through the apartment, checking the rooms. At the sound of water running, he entered the bathroom, horrified to find a dead woman in the shower, and an exact copy lying on the floor. /_They're twins, damnit./_

The construction worker bent over, vomiting at the smell of scalding brain, and reached for the other twin's arms, pulling her away from the bathroom, crossing to the kitchen. /_Holy fucking Jesus Christ!_/ was his first, and in fact, only thought, when he dragged the limp woman into the kitchen, having missed it the first time around.

"What the fuck's goin' on over here?!" he shouted, dropping the woman hard in his fright.

The Matthews woman began groaning, and started to sit up. The only warning he had was a feeling of cold before everything went dark.

* * *

It was like in bad action movies, where everything is clichéd and you can almost hear the soundtrack in the background, going 'dundun-dunnnnnn'. The moment she looked up, it was to the muzzle of a Desert Eagle, trained between her eyes. 

_Clink_

Something small and round suddenly rolled into the room, clattering on the floor. Both she and the man looked at it, then all hell broke loose.

**BOOM**

Everything exploded violently, throwing them apart, and gunfire erupted from all parts of the apartment. Furniture, lamps, and pictures were shattered by flying bullets; the air was torn and crackled with the amount of ammunition ripping it apart. Suddenly, someone latched onto her arm with a viselike grip and yanked her on her feet, and pulled her out the door, forcing her to run down the stairs, through the lobby, and into the rain.

* * *

"Welcome. As you no doubt have guessed, I am Morpheus." 

"Pleasure."

"No, the pleasure is all mine. Please, come. Sit."

Since she had arrived, Kathryn had been sullen, distant, uncaring of anything the man sitting in front of her had said, tuning him out to think about poor Cheryl and Tyson. He'd been talking about some reality mumbo-jumbo, how nothing can ever be certain, yadda, yadda, yadda…

"Have you been listening, Kathryn?"

"No."

Her indifferent response to everything he had said thus far annoyed him, as much as the irritating looks Niobe was sending him. Nodding his head to himself, he chose a new direction:

"Very well. Your name is Kathryn Matthews; you have no middle name because your parents wanted you to stand apart from your identical twin sister, Cheryl Madison Matthews, who married your best friend Tyson at the age of twenty-six, becoming Cheryl Hadley. They had been married for two years before they were killed this afternoon."

Air suddenly became lodged in her throat, her mind racing in alarm. Shocked out of her apathy, her terror-filled mind asked /_How does he know that? How can he possibly know that?_/

"You were born in Naskum, Oklahoma, and are twenty-eight years old. You went to school at the Lincoln Primary Institute, until you turned twelve, when your father was transferred from his work at King-Larriman Finance in Oklahoma, to their office in New York City. At that point, you met Tyson Hadley, and then graduated from P.S. 179 six years later with honors. From there, you studied at NYU, majoring in computer sciences, graduated, and received your masters degree three years later. Upon graduating, you shared an apartment with your sister, and then her husband. Since that point, you've been working as a graphic designer for your sister's company. But off-hours, you become Ransom."

Going very still, she could hear her heart thudding against her chest, could feel the heat of her blood rushing. He looked at her over the rims of his glasses, making her even more edgy.

"Have I missed anything?"

"I…I also work as a hacker, for those who can afford me. I can find a back door to nearly any program designed…that's what makes me valuable."

"It has also made you enemies. Rival hackers, fraudulent corporations, nations dealing with less than reputable sources…even enemies of which you aren't even aware."

She shifted in her seat, feeling curious despite everything that had happened within the last few hours. Pushing back the hysteria threatening to overwhelm her, she focused her eyes on the man in front of her.

"The man who tried to kill me," she said flatly, her expression dead but her eyes strained with checking her panic.

"Yes, the man who tried to kill you," nodded the man who called himself Morpheus.

"Who…who is he? Is he after the project I'm working on?"

Morpheus just looked at her, his eyes hidden behind dark lenses.

"Who is he? Or rather…**what** is he?" said Morpheus, steepling his fingers, looking at her intently over their tips.

Nonplussed, Kathryn simply stared. Leaning forward, he asked:

"What is the project your employer assigned to you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just…tell me."

Taking a breath, she looked at the others, and leaned forward as well, hunching over as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"My…employer, at the moment, is a wealthy citizen. A rival company was close to getting an inside contract dealing with the military. Specifically, for a program designed, once a subject has been brought into a virtual reality, to make them think they were still in the real world, and the computer world would draw from the subject's own mind, thus enhancing the mock-up. The logs said the experiment was called 'the Matrix'."

She sighed, leaning back into the leather chair, remembering, "My employer wanted in on the action, which was where I came in."

"Where you came in," Morpheus repeated.

"Right," she sighed again, and shifted in her seat, "I said I'm a hacker; who isn't these days? Anyway, my specialty was supercomputers: high-profile supercomputers. Only reason I haven't been arrested is because I'm so good; and the fact that some government divisions have used my services comes in handy when someone gets too close helps. Anyhow, it took a while to get access into the other company's system; there were so many encryptions, I had to use four computers on some, because they required simultaneous multiple user access codes.

"Finally," she said, breathing in heavily, "I was able to get the project plans I was looking for: it seemed like it would take **years** of research alone for **that** piece of work to get off the ground."

He seemed to think for a moment, then said:

"Let me tell you something, Ransom. You are here because of what you know; or rather, what you do not know. You feel it. You feel that something is wrong, has been wrong. Some things have come too close too fast, made a little too much sense in your line of work. Open your mind for a moment. What if someone had already created what your employer wanted? What if it was being used this very minute?"

She felt the words rushing out of her mouth, unable to control them:

"Then I'm shit out of luck."

He chuckled, and the older man dressed in leather and jeans opposite them snorted. Looking at him, Kathryn continued:

"If someone had already had a finished product, I guess I'd try to hack into it, get the specifics for my employer…more information equals more money."

"Exactly," said Morpheus, leaning again, this time even closer, "And what would have happened if you **had** found more information, and followed it to its source, but your employer's rival discovered you?"

"Wouldn't happen."

"Indulge me."

"They'd probably try to pin my location from an ISP code, track my movements as I beam information off satellites. They'd have to have pretty damn fine gear to match the speed of my transfer, and no one else has equipment as fast and untraceable as mine."

"Suppose they do; in fact, suppose your employer's rival has the fastest technology in the history of human design. And suppose the need for secrecy was greater than the need for your future services. What would happen if your employer's rival had everything to lose should you discover the truth, and would stop at nothing, not even murder, to silence you?"

Suddenly, an idea dawned in her head, and she looked at him, horrified:

"Are you saying they traced me? Found out where I lived, my routine, and tried to kill me? Only they killed Cheryl and Tyson instead?"

Her voice growing shriller by the minute, Kathryn stood up from her chair and began pacing.

"That'd mean they didn't know I'd borrowed Cheryl's clothes today, took her coat to the market. All I wanted was to get some pasta for dinner; it was the anniversary of our first night out, all three of us. We went to the movies, saw 'Road House' because Cheryl was in love with Patrick Swayze and Tyson had a thing for Kelly Lynch."

She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't hold back the hysteria any longer. Sitting on the floor beside her chair, she wrapped her arms around her knees, and began to cry.

"She's dead because of me…because of what I do…and Tyson, Tyson, he was innocent, he hadn't done anything!"

Suddenly, two hands placed themselves on her arms; Morpheus had knelt down beside her. She heard him speaking to her, his voice soothing, but urgent:

"I know this is difficult, Ransom, but you must understand. You must know: what you've been feeling, what you've always felt, as if something was wrong…you were right."

She looked at him with dull eyes. Morpheus returned her gaze, holding his hands, balled into fists, out in front of him. As he opened them, Kathryn saw a red pill in one, a blue pill in another. Morpheus looked at her again.

"Here is your choice, Ransom. You take the blue pill and tomorrow morning, you wake up in your bed, believing whatever you want to believe. Your sister and brother-in-law will be dead, but you won't remember why. You take the red pill, they are still dead, but you know the truth."

Minutes passed before she stretched out a trembling hand, taking the red capsule and swallowing it whole. Immediately, a cold, empty feeling began to move upward from her toes and pain as she had never felt it before ripped its way before the nothing. Dimly, she could hear shouts above her as she was consumed, calling her name.

* * *

"Niobe…" 

"Sparks, we need a signal."

"We've got a fibrillation."

"We need the location."

"Almost got her, cap."

"She's going into arrest."

"Lock, I've got her."

"Now, Sparks. Now!"

* * *

She remembered everything. Her clean apartment. Wet footprints. She remembered finding Tyson in the pantry and Cheryl in the shower, her head blown open and brains washing down the drain. A horrible gurgling sound startled her, and with growing horror, she realized it was her own throat struggling to breathe. Shuddering, gurgling, she flailed desperately, blindly, as she couldn't open her eyes. Stars began to form behind their lids as she felt herself suffocating. 

Suddenly, she heard shouting, and her shoulders began to rock in seizure. Strong hands grabbed her and pushed her to the side, and she went willingly, her stomach spewing chyme. Her throat felt as if someone had poured acid down it in reverse, and sobs were torn from her throat as she gasped for air. As she was turned on her back, Morpheus' face swam before her eyes before she squeezed them shut in pain, his features sliding through her tears.

"Your nervous system has remained intact despite being unplugged. That is why everything hurts. Do not worry, all will be well."

Opening her eyes again in panic, she saw his face was gone, and all she could see through her distorted vision was a syringe. Then his voice came:

"All will be well, Ransom."

The voice had grown soft, distant, and she found that some of the pain had faded as well. Shuddering with one last breath, she slipped into darkness, and knew no more.

* * *

A.N.: 

I am currently taking Anatomy/Physiology. Chyme is the disgusting liquid that you throw up.

And yes, I did model the Kathryn/Morpheus scene after the Neo/Morpheus one in the movie "The Matrix." Credit to where credit is due.

…CAPITALS… : Mainframe

…lowercase… : Smith


End file.
